


Sick Bay

by biblionerd07



Series: In Times of War [4]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Epic Bromance, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nurse in the sick bay witnesses Bass and Miles comforting one another after getting injured at war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Bay

**Author's Note:**

> So I may be mixing up fic and canon, but for some reason I have it in my head that Miles almost got his leg blown off and Bass's arm got injured. Am I partying in someone else's fic universe? If so, my apologies/thanks for the loan.

Nurse Henderson sighed, frustrated, as she entered the dark sick bay. She had told those two Marines a thousand times if she’d told them once that they were not supposed to share a bunk, yet there they were again. Last night it had been the taller, moody one who’d gone bed hopping—how he’d done that with his leg all but blown off was a mystery to her—and tonight the smiley one with the bad arm had crawled into bed with his friend.

She didn’t _think_ they were getting into anything like… _that_. She didn’t see how they possibly could be, what with their wounds and all. Plus when she’d ordered them back to their own _separate_ bunks she’d heard a few of the other injured Marines laughing and saying something about “brothers.”

She was pretty sure they weren’t actually brothers. They had different last names, for one, and completely different countenances. She knew it was tough, being out here, so far from home, far from your family, surrounded by desert and sand and blood and machine guns, and especially for the soldiers in the sick bay, since most of them had brushed fingers with death and were dealing with the ramifications. But she couldn’t let them share a bed, no matter how close they were and what they’d gone through. She’d scolded them multiple times, citing the rules and the fact that the beds were too small and the IVs hooked up to both of them. It had all fallen on deaf ears, apparently. She’d already sent the smiley one back to his own bed once tonight and was gearing up for round two of the fight when she noticed movement from the bed and stopped.

The dark one, Leg Injury as she called him in her head, was thrashing. He was obviously not awake, and she was about to rush in and hold him still to keep him from hurting his leg more, before she realized it wasn’t necessarily. At the first movement, his friend had woken up.

“Miles, Miles,” he was breathing into his friend’s face, his hands moving to the other man’s shoulders to hold him down. “Miles, wake up; you’re dreaming.” The thrashing slowed but didn’t stop.

“Miles, come on,” Arm Injury was whispering. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, wake up.”

The thrashing stopped and Leg Injury gasped. “Bass?”

“It’s okay. You’re safe—”

“Where am I?”

“Sick bay, you’re safe—”

“Bass?”

“Miles, I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“Are you safe?” His voice was tight, distraught. “Bass, are you hurt?” The memory loss was to be expected because of the concussion. Nurse Henderson found herself a little choked up at the fact that his first words upon waking were if his friend was okay. Arm Injury must’ve been too, because his voice was thick when he spoke.

“Miles, I’m safe; we’re both fine.”

“Bass, your arm. You’re crying.” He was confused, probably from a combination of the concussion and the nightmare. Nurse Henderson could hear his rapid breathing from across the room. Arm Injury—Bass?—was wiping sweat from Leg Injury’s forehead. They had to be either brothers or lovers, for that level of devotion. Nurse Henderson only did that kind of stuff because she got paid to.

“Miles, I’m safe, okay? Miles, look in my eyes. I’m okay.”

Leg Injury’s breath sped up. “You came after me.” Bass’s face fell. He was obviously hoping Leg Injury wouldn’t remember.

“Miles, don’t do this—”

“It’s my fault you got hurt, Bass; you should’ve just let me die!”

Bass squeezed his friend’s arm with his uninjured hand, but Leg Injury—Miles, apparently—was shaking his head, whispering “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” over and over. “I almost got you killed.” Miles moaned. “I’m a fucking idiot, I’m a coward, you shouldn’t have come after me…”

“Miles.” Bass had tears rolling down his cheeks now, their tracks on his face gleaming in the moonlight, his own concussion not doing much to help him keep his emotions in check. “Miles, stop. Look at me.” He held his friend’s face in place, shushing him softly.

“I’m sorry,” Miles whispered, and he kept saying it, voice hoarse. “Bass, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bass, I’m sorry.”

Nurse Henderson had gotten the impression ol’ Leg Injury had been quite the stoic—he never asked for more pain medicine besides his regular doses, he ate quietly, he endured with nothing more than a grimace when they changed the dressing on his wound; he’d been a model patient. But he was crying now, the first tears he’d shed since he’d been brought in.

“Miles, you know I couldn’t leave you there, don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not worth it, Bass.”

Bass growled and stooped low, pressing their foreheads together. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, you hear me?”

“Bass, you—”

“I went after you because I’ll never make it without you, you stupid stubborn asshole. And we both know you’d do the same for me. Right?” Miles didn’t answer and Bass picked up his head and brought it back down, hard, on Miles’s. Nurse Henderson cringed. They both had concussions; smacking their heads together was not a great idea. “Right, Miles?”

“Of course I’d go after you.”

“Are you saying I’m worth it and you’re not?”

Miles didn’t answer, obediently following his friend’s order not to say it again. Bass sighed into Miles’s face. “Miles, you’re my family.”

It seemed to be some kind of magic short-hand between them. Miles stilled and nodded, making Bass nod because their foreheads were still pressed together.

“I will follow you into hell if I have to.” Bass whispered.

“Me too.” Miles was obviously not the expressive one in this friendship—relationship? Whatever this was. But Bass didn’t seem to mind. He moved his head off his friend’s and lay back on the bed. Miles ran a finger over the tape holding the gauze over Bass’s injury, just once, from top to bottom, looking mournful.

“What, you gonna hold my hand?” Bass quipped, ironic for someone who was still wiping tears off his face and had been nose to nose with his best friend moments ago.

“Go to sleep.” Miles murmured back. Both their voices were rough from crying. They shifted around a little, getting comfortable, silently fighting over whose shoulder would be on top before Bass looked pointedly at the gauze on his arm and Miles gave in.

Nurse Henderson tip-toed back to her post. She would make them move before the shift change, but for now, she just let them sleep, rules be damned.


End file.
